


Comfort and Joy

by sonicshambles



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, kitchen mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5545220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicshambles/pseuds/sonicshambles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas week in London proves dangerous for Clara and she calls on the Doctor to once again help with Christmas dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort and Joy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for strikingtwelves for the Whouffaldi Secret Santa exchange on Tumblr. 
> 
> Hope you like it and Merry Christmas!

While traveling with the Doctor the week before Christmas the following happened to Clara: narrowly escaped from two jail cells, one involving explosives, lost the coin toss and fell out of the large tree she was forced to scale to find a path back to the TARDIS, performed a magic trick involving two knives and an apple that she made up on the spot so the Doctor could escape another accidental marriage, and rowed a leaking boat through a hail storm while the Doctor attempted to save the life of an injured revolutionary destined to lead her planet into a golden age. 

Clara got through all of that without harming herself in any way. When the Doctor dropped her back in London there wasn't one small scratch or bruise to be found anywhere on her body.

The week of Christmas, spent in London without any travels with the Doctor, wasn't quite so accident free. In fact it was a total disaster.

An afternoon spent baking Christmas biscuits with the Maitlands landed her in the ER after an incident with a knife, a pile of walnuts, and two of her fingers. A few stitches and some pointed looks at Artie and Angie every time they made a joke about doctors saving them later Clara was home with the arduous challenge of a half decorated tree and only one fully functioning hand. Of course that year her family once again planned to spend Christmas at her flat so everything needed to look extra perfect.

Clara landed in the ER for the second time in one day because stubborn determination did not overcome the inability to balance on tiptoes on a step stool to hang the star on top of the tree with one hand. The doctor explained to her how fortunate it was she only broke a few small bones in her foot but that still equaled a cast and crutches and instructions to take it easy that she knew needed to be ignored in order to get everything ready for Christmas Day. 

Christmas Day started on a better note but with half the food prep done her bad luck decided to finish the job on her other hand and foot. It took steaming hot water from the potatoes poured over her hand which caused an involuntary kick of her bare foot against the cabinet to land Clara in a sprawled out, dejected heap on her kitchen floor. Neither injury seemed to need immediate medical attention but they required her to sit very still until the pain subsided. When each second was needed to perfect the most amazing Christmas dinner ever the situation felt dire. After several long minutes in which the pain barely faded Clara decided that even if she didn't need the hospital she very much needed the Doctor. 

It took effort to retrieve her mobile from her apron pocket and hit the Doctor's entry in her address book. Of course just as he picked up the phone slipped from her hand and slid across the floor. She managed a weak help before throwing her head back and cringing when it hit the cabinet behind her. The room was still and silent and Clara was about to crawl towards her phone when she heard the TARDIS land in her bedroom. 

"Clara? Clara?! CLARA??!!!"

"Kitchen. Me. I'm in the kitchen."

Her response was uttered in a sad whisper but he must have heard because he came running in with a frantic, panicked look on his face. His eyes quickly took in her position on the floor and the mess around her.

"What is it? Who did this? Where are they are? Clara! Are you hurt badly? Can you talk?"

He kneeled down so they were face to face but his eyes never stopped roaming around the room and she could tell his body was ready to spring into action and destroy whatever evil Cyberman or Zygon or Missy had done this to her. Clara opened and closed her mouth several times, not at all sure how to break it to him what really happened. The part of her that just wanted to scream and cry calmed down a little when he placed a hand on her shoulder and finally looked at her. A fiery protective look blazed in his eyes but when they focused on her she was humbled by the deep concern she saw in them. 

"I sliced my fingers open making biscuits, I broke my foot decorating the tree, I poured the water I was boiling potatoes in all over my hand and I kicked the cabinet...because I was mad. And now I have less than two hours to finish cooking and setting everything up and I'm not sure I can move."

The tension poured out of the Doctor so quickly he collapsed onto the floor next to her. He rubbed his face for several long moments and Clara found herself unable to look directly at him. 

"But I'm sure I'll be okay and I'm sorry to bother you and I know you have to get back to the important appointment you told me about, so if you just help me up I can take it from there."

His hands slid down his face and he fixed her with a hard stare. 

"Oh, really? You just need me to lend you a hand and then I can be on my way?"

To prove how far she was willing to go to pretend she meant that Clara held out the stitched up hand as it hurt less than the recently burned hand. 

"Just a hand."

He very gently placed his hand against her's and she tried her best to grip it with the three fingers available to her. Convinced she was close enough to a good grip she attempted to put weight on the foot without the cast but the pain that caused sent her immediately back to sprawled against the counter. 

"Maybe two hands?"

"Maybe this instead."

Clara gasped when he tucked his arms under her and picked her up. There was a split second when they almost lost balance because Clara couldn't quite believe he was lifting her off the floor and carrying her so she swayed forward but he kept his balance and they recovered. He cradled her against him and it felt so warm and comforting to be pressed against his chest that the pain faded just a little bit. 

"Sofa or bed?"

She blinked. "Hmmmm?"

"I want to put you down somewhere soft. Sofa or bed?"

"Oh. Sofa. It'll be easier to get back into the kitchen in a few minutes."

"Oh, Clara. That is not happening."

"Don't you dare say Doctor's orders."

He snorted out a laugh and she felt his chest move against her. As he bent over and gently placed her on the sofa Clara realized she wasn't ready to let go. Once she was settled against the cushions the Doctor moved to release his arms but Clara clung to him. 

"Not yet.

"But -"

"Not. Yet."

With an awkward sigh he sat there stiffly when she nestled against him. When it became clear this was to be a long embrace he relaxed slightly and wrapped his arms back around her.

"I thought you needed help getting dinner ready."

From its resting place in the crook of his neck her head shook. 

"No, I told you I just needed a hand. And arms. And - this."

"Clara."

There was a hint of impatience in his voice but some deeper instinct guided him to rub a soothing hand up and down her back. After only a few moments of that Clara was ready to cancel Christmas and stay like that all day. The longer she was allowed to remain that close to the Doctor the more she never wanted to be anywhere else ever again. Eventually he released her and she frowned until she saw him lean back and study her burnt hand. It was a dark shade of pink and he turned it over with a gentle twist of her wrist to see the other side. 

"Does it still hurt?"

"A little."

"And your foot?"

"A little."

He nodded and stood up.

"Don't move. I'll be right back."

Clara made the mistake of glancing at the clock as the Doctor left the room and it almost sent her racing off the sofa. 

"Doctor! We only have one hour."

He offered no reply and when he reentered the room it was to silently apply ointment to her hand. 

"I'll be fine. We need to check the turkey, make all of the sides, finish the desserts, and set the table."

He remained silent and walked towards the kitchen. 

"Do you have a plan and might I inquire what it is?"

He came back with a sandwich bag full of ice and a tea towel wrapped around it. He placed it against her foot and looked over at her. 

"There isn't enough time to cook everything and get it all set out."

She groaned and sunk further into the sofa cushions. The Doctor placed a hand on her knee and gave it a soft squeeze.

"But I think I have a plan."

"Oh, well why didn't you start with that? What is it? What do I need to do? What's first?"

He cleared his throat and Clara could tell by the look on his face she was going to hate what he had to say.

"You need to stay very still until I get back. You are not to leave this sofa. You are not attempt to do anything other than keep the ice on your foot and stay out of trouble."

"Doctor -"

"No moving."

She glared at him. 

"How long will you be?"

"Twenty, maybe thirty, minutes."

"If you're not back in exactly thirty one minutes I'm ignoring all of your instructions."

He opened his mouth to say something but then looked like he thought better of it and turned towards her bedroom. It was agony to remain there while he was gone. All she could think of was the uncooked food in her kitchen and the lack of a set table and how she was still in her pajamas with a dirty apron over them. She hadn't even told her family about the cast on her foot or bandages around her hand and now they were going to find her there, an invalid with no Christmas dinner for them. Linda would never let her host again or hear the end of why. Clara saved planets and civilizations from destruction all the time but all her family would remember of her was that she couldn't conquer Christmas dinner. 

The TARDIS materialized in her kitchen twenty five minutes after it departed from her bedroom and when the Doctor poked his head into the room he was grinning from ear to ear. Too weary from everything to immediately get excited, Clara raised her eyebrows.

"What did you do?"

"You'll see."

He was practically bouncing in a way that was highly unusual for him and Clara was as frightened as she was hopeful. 

"Can I help?"

"No."

She groaned but knew it was useless to argue. 

"Then I'm getting changed. Shout if you need anything."

She stood carefully and the pain had faded enough in the foot she kicked that she was able to hop into her bedroom. Of course getting her dress on, hair brushed, and even a little makeup on took ten times longer than normal. As she dressed more and more food scents flooded her apartment. Whatever the Doctor had done to get dinner ready smelled amazing. Clara wanted to look but there was one more task that she needed him for first.

"Doctor? Can you bring my crutches in from the kitchen?"

A minute later he appeared in her doorway and walked towards her with the crutches. She smiled and with a cough turned her back towards him.

"I, ummm, also need help with my zipper."

She saw enough of his face to see his cheeks turn pink and he was careful to touch no part of her but the zipper. Clara untucked her hair and with a quick swish of it observed herself in the mirror. The Doctor stood behind her with an unreadable expression on his face. 

"What do you think?"

"It's a very acceptable color. The red is...festive."

Clara bit her lip to prevent a laugh and reached a hand back towards him. He squeezed the tips of her fingers and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. 

"Before you go out there I want to say that I know what it means to you to have cooked the entire dinner yourself and I'm sorry I couldn't make that happen. I'm sure without your injuries the dinner you prepared would have been lovely."

The first part sounded like something he learned from her index cards which was nice to consider but there was a bigger mystery at hand. Clara's expression turned quizzical. 

"Who did cook it?"

"Let's go take a look."

With the crutches tucked under arms and her hands maneuvering them as best they could she hobbled behind him into her sitting room. The table was perfectly set and the food displayed on it was the most mouth watering she had ever seen or smelled. As her eyes wandered from one dish to another they got wider and wider and she was in total shock by the time she turned to the Doctor. 

He looked nervous but also excited to answer all of the questions he knew she had. 

"Doctor, did you cook all of this?"

"I didn't cook any of it. I did call in a few favors from some old friends."

"What old friends?"

It took him almost two minutes to name them all and by the time he finished several of the most famous chefs in history had been mentioned.

"Wow."

"Was it too much?"

"There are going to some questions. They've had my cooking before. But no. No, this is - I don't know how to thank you."

"You don't have to."

"I really do. I was very low when you arrived early."

"I know, you were on the floor."

Her voice was shaky when she laughed. She was overwhelmed by the display in front of her and the gratitude she felt for its presence. She moved in front of him and looked directly up at him. 

"If you're going to be like that I'll just say thank you."

But once she was in front of him that wasn't all she wanted. Her heart swelled as she looked at him and she drunk in the way he fidgeted and all of the emotions that flashed across his face. She let her crutches drop to the floor and gingerly rested her hands against his chest. He immediately placed his hands on her hips to steady her and she lifted her hands up to cross her wrists behind his neck. 

"Clara."

Her name sounded like a sigh and she heard hints of trepidation and hope in it. 

"I'm going to do something but you need to lean down because I can't stretch up."

"What are you going to do?"

Even as he asked he leaned down and just before she pressed her lips against his she said, "This."

He kept his lips closed when she first kissed him and she moved hers to kiss the corners of his mouth. She was about to move away when he caught her top lip between his and pulled her back in. Clara moaned as the kiss deepened and as it continued the Doctor slid his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. Kissing him was both everything Clara imagined it would be and far beyond what her imagination was capable of. When they paused to catch their breath Clara rubbed her nose against the Doctor's and smiled against his mouth.

"There's one problem with the table."

His head snapped away from her's and he glared at the table. 

"What?"

Clara kissed a trail down the sharp curve of his jaw, already too consumed by the ability to touch him like that to easily stop. 

"It's only set for four."

"That's right."

Her first answer was another kiss which he fought against for a second before succumbing to. Clara kept her lips against his and mumbled, "It's wrong."

The Doctor tucked her hair behind her ears and fixed her with a look that would have been stern if he was able to stop grinning.

"You, your father, your stepmother, and Gran. That's four. Did you also hit your head earlier?"

"My head is fine. You forgot to set one for yourself."

The Doctor ducked his head down. 

"I didn't know I was invited."

"I invited you last week and you made such a production of needing to keep an appointment with Plato on this exact date and exact time that I dropped it. But since you're here, I thought - Please stay for dinner."

When he looked at her there was a glow to his face but his eyes didn't quite hide everything. Clara felt somewhat at ease in the fact that he looked nervous and a little sad instead of bored or disdainful of the idea. 

"It might be hard to convince them I'm your boyfriend this time. We'll need another story."

"You're wearing clothes this time so it might go better and if you want to say something else you can but I'm fine with the boyfriend story."

"I suppose a relationship would be believable when they see the dinner I cooked for us."

"Oh, is that the story we're going with?"

He nodded and cupped a hand against the side of her face. 

"You said yourself no one will believe you did it. I'm doing this to protect us from questions we can't answer."

She laughed and pulled his face closer to her's. 

"What about we cooked it together."

They lost all track of time and their surroundings and were quite tangled up in each other when they heard a knock at Clara's door. They rushed to smooth down their clothes and hair and the Doctor helped Clara get her arms back over her crutches. Clara moved to answer the door when the Doctor stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Wait, I need to give you a name to call me."

"Basil?"

His face broke out in a giant grin. 

"Perfect."

His hand slipped off her arm and they gave each other matching "We're in this together" nods as she went to open the door.


End file.
